


There's Nothing in the Dream Dictionary About This

by nelliespector (ilmv)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Dreamwalking, Fluff, Implied Bi!Dean (briefly mentioned), Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Masturbation, Protective Dean, Psychological Trauma, Sam Has a Crush, Sam has Nightmares, Smut, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 21:43:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5431859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilmv/pseuds/nelliespector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is concerned as Sam's nightmares have returned and seem to be an unsolvable issue. Castiel just wants to help, but Sam's been having intense dreams about his best friend that have him questioning his sexuality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Nothing in the Dream Dictionary About This

**Author's Note:**

> Mini Bang story written for Sastiel Big Bang 2015, thanks to artist Steco/Stefy-coool for the great illustrations! :)

  
  
[[art by Steco/Stefy-coool](http://stefy-coool.livejournal.com/138631.html)]

Cold sweat streaked down Sam's bare torso, his knuckles white, fingers digging into the sheets as he thrashed violently in his bed. The nightmares which had robbed him of rest for years had returned with a terrifying fervor. He would jolt awake several times each night, stare at the clock and wonder when he'd ever find peace. When he closed his eyes and hoped for peaceful dreams and a night of rest, there was no escape from the demons in his head.

Seeing the dark circles under Sam's eyes and sensing something was off, Dean suggested his younger brother start drinking heavily before bed to knock himself out cold. "Always works for me," Dean said, taking a swig from a bottle of whiskey. "No dreams, no nightmares, nothing. Just an alcoholic coma for 7 hours." He passed the bottle to Sam, who poured the contents into a shotglass. After many bottles of beer and several shots; he wasn't exactly counting, Sam started to feel his body and his inhibitions relax. 

"Dean... you dunno what it's like..." he slurred. "You been through stuff but you don't have all this crap in your head all the time and..." Sam was completely sauced at this point and Dean knew it was no use carrying on a conversation with his brother in this state. He wouldn't remember anything he said.

Dean patted Sam on the shoulder. "It's alright, Sammy," he said. "Come on, lemme help you to bed." Sam put his arm around Dean's shoulder, and they slowly, drunkenly limped from the library toward Sam's bedroom. Just then they were interrupted by the sound of wings fluttering behind them. Castiel appeared and took his place on the other side of Sam and helped carry him, lifting the larger man's weight easily.

  
  
[[art by Steco/Stefy-coool](http://stefy-coool.livejournal.com/138631.html)]

"Sam. Are you OK?" Cas asked as they shuffled toward Sam's bedroom door. Even in the younger Winchester's inebriated state, Cas could see the nights of stress written on Sam's face, the dark circles under his eyes said enough. Cas could also see inside Sam's troubled soul. Reading Sam's mind was never pleasant for Cas. He felt conflicted about violating his friend's privacy. Still, his concern for Sam's well being came first. Cas couldn't help the horrified look in his eyes when he peered into Sam's recent thoughts. Nightmares that went beyond anything nightmares should normally be. The mirror of his mind reflected back hellish visions of torture and the resultant panic attacks Sam had been dealing with all alone.

Sam looked over at Cas through hooded, bleary eyes. "Cas... hey," he said, smiling. "You didn't have to..." he trailed off as they pushed open the door. The two men dragged Sam toward his bed, setting him down on top of the covers. 

"Dean, why didn't you tell me this was going on?" Cas asked as he helped Dean untie Sam's shoes. "Your brother needs help." Sam yawned loudly and mumbled something neither man could hear.

"Nightmares? It's just part of the gig," Dean said, dragging Sam's feet from the floor up onto the bed. Sam was too tall for his own bed, and his feet stuck out from under the quilt Cas put over him. "Unless this is some of his psychic crap?" Dean asked.

"No. It doesn't appear to be demon blood related," Cas said, reading deeper into Sam's soul. "He's just... very disturbed, for lack of a better term. I suppose a psychiatrist is out of the question."

"No, no, no. Absolutely not! I'm not putting my brother back in the damn nuthouse!" Dean shouted. Sam stirred awake slightly at Dean's volume, then fell back asleep. "We'll deal with it ourselves. Look at him," Dean said. Sam was already passed out. "He'll sleep like a baby tonight." Dean turned down the lamps in Sam's room, and he and Cas took their discussion to the hallway.

"And how long do you propose inebriation as a solution to this problem? Turning your brother into an alcoholic seems ill advised, especially with his addiction issues," Cas suggested. "It's a recipe for disaster."

"Well, if you've got any other ideas I'm all ears," Dean scoffed. "Number one: we can't send him to a shrink. Number two: you don't have the mojo to heal him anymore. So it looks like booze is our only hope."

"Have you considered his feelings? I've seen inside his head," Cas said. "He wants to be useful, to have a purpose. This job is his purpose right now. His biggest fear is being a burden on his big brother. What kind of hunter will he be if he's too hung over to function?"

Dean threw his hands up, exasperated by this discussion. "OK, you know what? Fine. You go ahead and find something else, anything else that will help Sam. I don't want to see him suffer any more than you do, and you're right- if he's drunk every night he'll be crap on the job, he'll feel like crap, I'll feel like crap. Figure something out. Please? I got no one else to turn to," Dean pleaded.

Cas laid his hand on Dean's shoulder, the way he always did when comforting his friend. "I promise," Cas said. "I'll do everything in my power to help Sam. You have my word."

****

Sam had always been secure in his sexuality. All the times Dean teased him with some crude joke about being gay, Sam had always brushed aside his brother's comments as some kind of projection of Dean's own insecurities. "His issues, not mine," he thought. He never protested, he simply ignored the comments and let them stand. It never really offended him. He knew who he was and who he wasn't, and even if he was gay or bisexual, there would be no shame in it. But he wasn't. He just wasn't. Was he?

Lately, he was starting to wonder if maybe his brother saw something in him that he had missed all these years. Maybe it was something he was avoiding or misinterpreting as just another missing piece of the puzzle in the long list of traumas he had accumulated. It's hard to sort things like this out when repressing feelings and avoiding attachments was the order of his life.

It was no surprise to Sam or anyone else that he was restless and prone to nightmares. Not just garden variety nightmares, but the sort of flashbacks one could expect from a mind that has been through demonic possessions, angelic possession, Hell, and the torments of Satan himself. Orgasms tended to help him a bit, easing him into a nice, lazy sleep. Lately, when Sam was alone in his bedroom with the door locked and the lights dimmed and his hand shoved down his boxers looking for relief, it wasn't girls on his mind. It was pale, chapped lips kissing the inside of his thighs. It was a stubbled jaw scratching against his soft flesh. It was a gravelly voice moaning out words of praise and encouragement. It was looking into the bluest eyes and running his long fingers through mussed up, dark hair. It was wrong to think of his best friend this way, it must be. What would Cas think if he knew?

Cas hadn't entered the realm of Sam's sexual fantasies out of nowhere. It started with vivid lucid dreams, the type Sam never really had before. At first they were just friendly. Sam would dream about being on a hunt; usually a quick and easy salt-and-burn, and Cas would be there helping him and encouraging him. "I'm here for you, Sam," he'd say. After a successful hunt against a ghost or a ghoul or a demon, they shared a warm hug. There was none of the stilted awkwardness that often punctuated their real waking world hugs. Cas embraced Sam lovingly, pressing himself against him, standing on his tip toes to rest his head in the crook of Sam's neck, running his fingers through Sam's hair. Sam sighed at the feeling, wrapping his arms around the angel's waist. It had been so long for him since someone hugged him like that. Cas felt like home, like he was finally warm and safe and whole again.

Pulling apart from their embrace, Cas then leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the hunter's lips. "Sam, you are so beautiful," Cas sighed. Sam was taken aback at first. "Uh, what are you doing, Cas?" he remembered asking, the lucidity of the dream so strong he could swear it was real life. Cas just looked into his eyes, with a look that projected all the love and good intentions he had inside him. It was a love so infinite that it encompassed galaxies. Sam was overwhelmed and he understood, he felt it in the depths of his soul. It was a love that transcended sex, gender, and the physical. It went beyond everything he knew about himself and what he wanted and what he liked. It was connection in its purest form. He felt connected. Sam returned the kiss, with trepidation at first. But it felt so right, his lips against Cas' lips, like the last pieces of a puzzle coming together. Then they kissed passionately, giving in to the human physical desires they both tended to suppress but needed to sate. "You're brave, Sam. You're strong," Cas whispered in between kisses. "You are so loved." Sam started untying Cas' necktie and unbuttoning his shirt, kissing the angel's neck and collarbones. Cas ran his hand up Sam's thigh, almost reaching his erection. "Cas..." Sam moaned against the angel's skin as Cas palmed the hunter's hard dick through his shorts. That's when Sam would wake up, serene and bewildered and wildly aroused by what he had just experienced- and more than a little disappointed to have the dream cut short.

The night dreams became daydreams and daydreams became sex fantasies that picked up where the dreams left off. It wasn't just sex and getting off. Sam just longed to be touched. He wanted to be held and to hold someone, to look into their eyes and know he meant the world to them. It had been so long since anyone had held him like that, with love and reverence and deep respect. As far as his sleeplessness was concerned, the sexual fantasies about Cas worked for him. He was having the best orgasms he'd had in a long time, he slept well and woke up rested and content. Why he was suddenly interested in a man romantically and sexually was something he didn't really dwell on. Maybe it was just the novelty, it was definitely exciting and new to think of a man this way. Maybe it was something more. Maybe it was just Cas.

Sam pulled the fantasies from the dreams. Usually Sam's fantasies were slow and sweet- the two of them shyly peeling layers of clothes off one another and kissing softly, caressing one another with the lightest of touches until their cheeks were flushed and they were panting each other's names. Other times Sam dreamed up hot, rough, frenzied sex with the rawest of emotions, nails and teeth digging into flesh, pushing one another up against walls and doors. Cas' growling moans and rough fingers pressing into him, making him tremble with need. Or it was Sam stretching Cas with slick fingers, readying his body then fucking into him with abandon. "Uhhh.. Fuck, Cas. You feel so good," he'd moan. The angel would growl his name, marking his flesh with teeth and nails digging in, his body warm with grace. Both of them tended toward dominance in the bedroom and this wild, rough sex saw them fighting for dominance over the other, with neither one winning. Something about that made it better, though. Here at least they were equals.

The only problem was how awkward all this dreaming and fantasizing was making things for him every time he had to speak to Cas for real. He stuttered and stammered and bumped into things whenever Cas was around. Sam learned it was best to keep his eyes glued to the pages of his books or the screen of his laptop. He found some books on dream interpretation in the library and was skimming through them, searching for answers. Why was this happening to him, now? What did it mean to have lucid, gay, romantic wet dreams about your best friend on a nightly basis? Unfortunately, the outdated book on dream lore probably held no answers for him. Sam had a nervous habit of chewing on pencils as he read. Dean happened to notice this one morning as the two of them did some research in the library.

“What's up with you lately? You seem... I dunno, on edge,” Dean said, eyeing his brother over his laptop. “Still having those dreams?”

“What?! What dreams? I don't know what you're talking about,” Sam replied skittishly, accidentally tipping over his cup of coffee.

“Uh, you know, the nightmares you told me about, the flashbacks? Hell, Lucifer, angels and demons hitching a ride in your meat, the whole nine yards,” Dean said. “Sam, you ok?”

Sam mopped up the coffee with his napkin and told his brother it was nothing, he was just a little tired and feeling out of sorts lately. It wasn't entirely true. He was sleeping well, a little too well in fact. "Maybe I'll go get some sleeping pills," he said dryly. He managed to look his brother in the eye when explaining himself, satisfied that was enough to keep Dean from prying any more.

Looking Cas in the eye was a little harder at times, especially in the morning when the dreams were still raw and fresh in Sam's mind. Cas would fly in the check on the brothers each morning, asking if they needed his help with any of their cases. The familiar fluttering of wings announced his arrival. “Dean. Sam,” he said in his gravelly voice.

“Uh, hi Cas,” Sam said, making eye contact with the angel briefly, then quickly returning his attention to his dream dictionary.

“Hey Cas, just finishing up some research on a salt-and-burn 25 miles out of town. Simple job, don't think we'll need any help on this one. Hell, I can handle it myself, Sammy won't even need to come. But it's good to see you anyway,” Dean said. Cas nodded, but kept his eyes on Sam.

“I don't understand what dream interpretation has to do with hunting ghosts,” Cas said, motioning the book Sam was flipping through. Dean and Cas stared at Sam, both puzzled by his choice in reading material, Cas tilted his head.

“Uh, yeah, I'm done researching the case actually, here's my notes,” he said, passing several filled out sheets of paper over to Dean. “I'm just doing some, um, independent research on... stuff.”

“So what are you dreaming about, Sammy? Clowns or midgets?” Dean joked.

Sam felt his face flush bright red at that question. What was he dreaming about? He was only dreaming about sex and romance with his best friend, who happened to be an angel of the Lord. He was only having day dreams and lusty sex fantasies ripped straight out of a romance novel about his best friend every night before bed. “Uh, no, nothing like that,” he laughed apprehensively. “It's like I told you before, nightmares. The worst things you can think of.” Sam was a bad liar, but he hoped Dean couldn't see through his ruse.

“Right, OK. Look, I don't need to know,” Dean said, sipping his coffee.

Cas, on the other hand- Sam knew there was no use in trying to fool him. “If you won't be needing me, I'll go. Goodbye, Dean. Sam,” Cas said, his eyes lingering on the younger brother before he disappeared abruptly with a fluttering of his wings.

Cas had always shown such kindness and concern for him, and Sam wondered if Cas could use angelic intuition to infer what was going on. Was Sam's soul speaking out loud the words his lips couldn't form? He figured if Cas had enough grace left to read his mind, he wouldn't waste it on him. If it ever got too awkward between them he would just stop, he thought. He would just replace this fantasy with something else, with porn, with a random woman if need be, and hope the romantic sexual dreams about the angel Castiel would go away on their own.

But he really hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Later that night as Sam was sitting in bed trying to conjure up another fantasy about his closest friend, he heard footsteps in the hallway and a knock at the door. "Sam? May I come in?" Cas asked in low tones. Sam unlocked the door and let him in. The angel smiled warmly and Sam smiled back apprehensively, not quite meeting his glance. Cas looked around the sparsely decorated quarters, noticing the rumpled sheets. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he inquired.

"Uh, no.. um, you're fine. It's alright... Uh so w-what's up?" Sam stammered nervously.

"Sam," Cas started, putting his hands on Sam's broad shoulders. "I've been wanting to ask you how you've been sleeping lately." Sam tensed up at Cas' sudden closeness. Cas gave Sam a fond look, rubbing the larger man's shoulders attentively, rolling little circles with his thumbs, easing Sam's physical discomfort, but making his heart pound nervously in his chest.

"Um, I guess it's alright," Sam said. "I mean, I've been sleeping better than before. Fewer uh, nightmares."

Cas smiled. "I'm so glad to hear that, Sam."

Sam sat down on the edge of his bed and Cas gestured to ask permission to join him. Sam nodded. Cas sat close to Sam, placing his hand over Sam's. "If you ever need to talk about anything, I'm here for you, Sam," he said kindly.

Sam glanced over at Cas. "Um, thanks. It means a lot to me," Sam said with an awkward half-smile.

Cas reached over, delicately tucking the loose strands of hair behind Sam's ear, tilting the hunter's head to meet his gaze. "I mean it. Anything you need. You don't have to face your problems alone," he said. Sam looked into Cas' eyes and felt the way he felt in his dream. This love and light radiated out of Cas through his eyes, through his touch, and Sam was overwhelmed.

Then suddenly those old nagging, self-hating thoughts that had plagued him for years returned and he recoiled from Cas' touch. He became frightened. He suddenly felt wrong. This was wrong. He was unworthy. He was unclean. What the hell was he doing? What right did he have to feel this way about his best friend? Sam felt his eyes well up with tears, he hid his face in his hands. Cas immediately pulled Sam into an embrace. "Shh.. Sam, it's alright," he whispered, calming him. "Sam. Listen to me. Please," he said, holding Sam to his chest and stroking Sam's hair. "You're stronger than this. You are brave, Sam. You are so strong. You are-"

"Loved," Sam said, looking up at Cas, his watery eyes now full of shock. Suddenly he realized the truth. He pulled the angel into a passionate kiss. All his fears and doubts melted away in that moment of pure joy, the moment his dreams became real. Because they were real. Cas splayed his hands on Sam's chest. Their lips molded together like they were made for one another, caresses manifested like they had been down this road a million times and knew just what the other wanted and needed. Because they did.

Sam broke the kiss, panting slightly. "Cas..." Sam whispered, "It was you. It was you all along. In my dreams?"

Cas smiled. "At first, I just wanted to comfort you," Cas explained, sitting back slightly and taking Sam's hand in his. "You weren't sleeping well and giving you nice dreams seemed like a safe way to accomplish that. I didn't know... I didn't know it would lead to us exploring our feelings like this." 

Sam smiled, looking down at their intertwined fingers and pulling Cas closer to him. "I'm glad it did," Sam said, kissing Cas on the forehead.

"I never expected to fall in love with you, Sam. But I have," Cas remarked. Love. Cas loved him. Sam felt a happiness he never knew was possible.

"I love you, too, Cas," Sam said. They held each other for awhile before either of them spoke again, just enjoying the feeling of being together.

"Did you always mean what you said?" Sam finally asked.

"My words to you were never lies to make you feel better. They're the truth. Sam, you are strong. You must know this," Cas pleaded. "You've been through things that would have destroyed even some angels."

Sam's eyes lit up. "Really?" he asked.

"Yes. Don't you know this by now? There's no one more worthy of love than you, Sam," Cas proclaimed. "No matter what this life throws at you, you've never given up your love of humanity, your desire to always do what is right."

At the angel Castiel's words, Sam felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. All the years of pent up doubt and self-hatred melted away from him as they held each other close. Cas dried what remained of the tears in Sam's eyes with the sleeve of his trench coat.

"Thanks," Sam chuckled under his breath. "So what happens now?" he asked.

"Now..." Cas whispered with a smile, pulling Sam in for another kiss, "we see if dreams really do come true." Sam already knew- they did.

  
  
[[art by Steco/Stefy-coool](http://stefy-coool.livejournal.com/138631.html)]


End file.
